Doing It Over


Ten years is a long time. Sure, a lot can happen is ten years, no doubt there. I knew that as I sat on a picnic table at my ten-year high school graduation reunion, but even now as I look back on the reunion, I’m even more impressed with just how long ten years was then and is now.

I went to the reunion single, unmarried, unattached, solo, just me. My marriage had just ended a few months before. The reunion began as a covered dish luncheon picnic in the park near our old high school. Accordingly, I brought a bag of fruit from Kroger. The plastic bag on the table beside well-prepared dishes turned up more than a few laughs.

Considering that I only went to our high school for two years and quickly moved away after graduation, I had a hard time remembering names much less recognizing faces. There were exceptions to my blank spots. Diane was one of the exceptions, definitely.

Diane was a good friend through those two years in high school. Although we were never in touch over the course of the ten years after graduation, and we haven’t been in touch since the reunion, there always seemed to be some kind of special bond between us. For those years in high school we dated often, mostly in between her periods of dating older guys. I was her brother-confessor, she had often said. We went out with each other when we didn’t want to go out with anyone else.

Of course, I had a secret crush on Diane that I never admitted to for fear of being rejected. I was prepared in those high school days to enjoy her company when and as I could. In high school she was an athletic, attractive young woman with chocolate brown hair usually swept over his face in the style of the day. Her blue eyes sparkled; her laugh was a thrill. We made a nice couple, her mother would smile and say as we would leave on a date. Her mother even asked me what size shoes I wore once, winking at Diane in the process. It was an inside joke that wasn’t so inside, causing Diane to blush and giggle.

The reunion in the park had begun slowly and held that predictable pace until families with kids began to pack-up and go home. Diane finally found her way to a spot on my picnic table and sat down. It was just us there then. I couldn’t have hoped for better.

“You look good,” she said gazing across the lawn.

“You too, Diane,” I told her, “Your frosted hair becomes you.”

She laughed and turned to me, “Highlighted, John, they call it highlighted, now.”

“How long have you been married?” I asked with real interest.

“Four years,” she answered automatically, “And you?”

“Not married,” I told her looking away, “not anymore.”

“I heard,” she admitted, “But being that it happened recently, I didn’t know how you wanted to treat it.”

I reached over and took her hand in mine. “No way to treat it but as it is,” I told her kissing the back of her hand as I used to do a long time before.

“Any regrets?” she asked, surprising me.

The question caught me off-guard. I thought for a moment, wondering whether to answer as I had considered the question. “You want the honest answer about regrets?” I asked, chuckling.

“Yes,” she smiled, taking up my laugh.

“I was thinking about this a few minutes ago while I watched you across the way with Mary Anna. There was a night a long time ago. You and I had been to a movie at the drive-in. I remember that we went parking afterwards and ended up in the backseat of the car. The windows got steamy but we were hotter, I think. We ended up with me on top of you and your legs wrapped around me. Do you remember?” I asked.

She looked at me for a moment, smiling. “Yes,” she said, “We were parked haramidere escort in a church parking lot, I was wearing a brown skirt.” She paused for a moment, “You made me cum, did you know that?”

“I thought so, yes,” I told her, both of us now working back into the memory. “You know what I regret?” I went on, “I regret not having made a move to touch you more, to make love to you, if you want to call it that. I didn’t do more that night or any other time because I didn’t want to offend you somehow. I regret it now, for sure.”

She leaned back on the picnic table and laughed. “Listen to yourself,” she finally said. “I had my legs wrapped around you, humping myself into you as you did the same to me, you made me cum, and you didn’t try to touch me,” she finished before pausing.

“A pretty dumb shit, wasn’t I?” I grinned.

She moved across the picnic table bench and kissed me tenderly on the cheek. “Let me cook you dinner tonight,” she whispered.

“Your family?” I ask, puzzled.

“Gone,” she smiled, “Spending the weekend away at his parents.”

“I’d love to, but you don’t have to cook,” I started, “Why don’t I buy you dinner?”

“Because they’re too fussy in restaurants,” she grinned, “They expect people to wear clothes.”

We walked to her car holding hands and swinging our arms like two kids on the playground.

I sat on her deck and watched her grill chicken on her gas grill. She still had the same body, the same look, the same appeal. The music drifted to us from the stereo in the house, the bottle of wine sat patiently on the table beside the railing.

The chicken disappeared along with a salad amidst stories of kids, and jobs, and spouses, and wishes, and disappointments, and hopes.

“I’ve thought of you often, John,” she said leaning back in her chair to sip more wine.

“That’s hard to believe,” I told her honestly, “I didn’t ever think I rated that highly with you.”

“You didn’t have the confidence to find out,” was all she said. “I loved listening to you play in bands at dances,” she went on turning to me, “Do you still play?”

“Sometimes,” I told her, “Sometimes.”

She just smiled and moved out of her chair to walk across the deck to me. She said nothing as she came to me, leaned down and kissed me. Her lips were soft, familiar, and wet. Her tongue quick and probing. It was her who broke the kiss. Our eyes just held each other as we both simply enjoyed being where we were.

“Come inside, please, okay?” she said quietly.

I rose and followed her into the house. We got just inside the door before we found our arms wrapped around the other, holding the other in a hug, an embrace, really, an embrace coming from time lost and wanting to be recovered.

I took her face in my hands and kissed her, letting my lips move gently, tenderly, over hers. I teased her with my tongue, wanting her to want its touch, its electricity. Her tongue came looking of mine and I gave up the tease, letting our mouths press hard together, letting our kiss take its own course.

Diane pressed her hips into me as we kissed. The message was unmistakable, direct and true.

“I have a question for you,” she whispered into my ear, “I’d like to do something and wondered if you would to.”

“What?” I asked while I kissed her ear, pulling on her earlobe with my teeth.

“I’d like to go parking again,” she whispered with a smile in her voice, “I’d like to find that same church and see if we can improve on that night we both remember.”

Still holding her face in my hands, I moved to let içerenköy escort our eyes sort it out. They did. And they said, yes, definitely, yes.

We rode in my rental car with the windows down and the radio reviewing songs from our graduation year. I drove and she snuggled as best she could over the console that hadn’t been there ten years before. We didn’t talk, not with words, anyway, we just rode and felt and anticipated a return to a place we had both tucked away thinking it gone for good. How often does a person get a chance to do something over again that you wished you had done differently?

The summer night sky was full of stars without a moon. The diamonds of light twinkled and watched as I maneuvered us through small town streets onto country roads that sliced their way through fields of corn and pastures roamed by dark, silent forms.

“I remember loving these rides,” Diane said, breaking the silence, “Riding with you, riding like this, feeling so comfortable and safe. I’ve missed it, John, I’ve missed you for ten years without really knowing it”

I kissed the back of her hand and didn’t try to respond.

The old white frame church seemed to be just the same as it was ten years before. The green shutters were the same, the steeple still reaching high into the night sky. The parking lot still was around back of the church, quiet and private and secluded. We pulled into the driveway and slowly moved the car around behind the church. When I turned the car off, the chirping sounds of a country night came to us eerily and sharp.

“Would you like the radio on?” I asked quietly.

“No,” was all Diane said.

We sat for a moment, snuggling close, not knowing quite where to begin, until my arm went around her and pulled her to me even closer. My lips found hers, softly kissing her. It was her tongue that came looking for mine again.

I listened to her breathe as we kissed, her breath was nearly a moan as it came from deep inside her somewhere. When my hand moved to her breast, the moan became more distinct, deeper in tone and strength. Her nipples were hard and pointed under her t-shirt, the tips pronounced and shaped.

“The back seat,” she whispered into my neck, “We were in the back seat.”

I pulled the keys from the ignition and tossed them onto the floor so that there would be no sounds when we opened the doors. We pulled from each other at the same time, opening each of our doors to climb outside. I walked around to her side of the car to find her leaning there looking up at the stars. I drew her to me and held her tight in my arms.

“Are you sure about this?” I asked.

She only smiled when she told me, “That was your problem ten years ago. You questioned too much. Don’t you want to fuck me?”

“Yes,” I murmured into her shoulder.

“Then quit thinking about it and do it.” She punctuated her suggestion by biting my lower lip and pulling on it almost too hard.

I responded by pulling her t-shirt up and over her head. She answered by doing the same with mine. Our embrace now featured skin on skin, nipples on nipples, chest hair on smooth soft silkiness. Diane’s hands began to work on the button and zipper of my shorts as my hands moved between us to capture her nipples in my fingers. I twisted and pulled gently as he unzipped me and moved both her hands inside my shorts to find my cock..

“No underwear,” she mumbled, “Me either.”

I moved my hands to her shorts to check this out for myself. The snap popped and the zipper zipped and my hands moved inside to find a soft puff of pubic hair. My innovia escort hands moved to her hips and began to push her shorts down over her hips to her thighs. We kissed again then as she did the same to me. We each wore sandals which we scurried to remove while our tongue renewed their game of hide and seek. In less than a few minutes we were too old friends naked on a summer night, standing beside a car parked behind a lonely country church.

Diane reached behind her and pulled on the rear door handle until it clicked open. She broke the kiss this time, grinning a grin I hadn’t seen for a long time.

“Care to climb inside the carriage?” she asked.

“After you, my lady,” I told her, standing back to give her room.

Diane turned her back to me and began to crawl into the car on her hands and knees. Damn, I thought, not fair, but, oh, so good. The strong round shape of her ass moved as she crawled, the dark slit between her legs was covered with brown hair and glistening wetness. I thanked myself for turning off the dome light as I reached inside to grasp her hips and stop her. I wanted the door left open as I knelt to push my face between her legs, deep into the crack of her ass, deep, deep with my tongue pushing between the thick lips into her pussy.

She moaned loudly and leaned down onto the seat with her chest on her arms, her face turned sideways smiling with her eyes shut. I held her hips in my hands as I worked hard to explore her with my tongue. My nose pushed hard against the pucker of her ass as my tongue lapped at her pussy, lapped hard and slowly before withdrawing and flicking down lower over her hard clit.

Her moan became louder still, almost forming itself into words. Her hips, her whole body, seemed to begin moving with the rhythm of my tongue even though there was really no rhythm to match.

When I moved my face higher, still licking, and let my fingers find her pussy and clit as I licked her ass, I think it was then that she came almost immediately.

“Oh, my God,” she blurted as her pussy grasped my fingers and her ass pulsed on my tongue, “Oh, oh…”

I tasted her reveling in the moment I had considered lost and gone. I tasted and licked gently, trying not to disturb her orgasm or interrupt the glow I felt likely to be coursing through her body. Diane moved from my face and fingers and slowly began to turn onto her back in the car seat.

“Now fuck me,” was all she said as she looked down her body to me still kneeling in the car door.

I crawled up into the car and between her legs spread wide in invitation. I knelt on the seat for a moment, letting the tip of my cock play over her wet pussy, letting the tip spread her thick lips, letting the tip circle lightly over her hard clit. I watched, kneeling there, as the thick head of my cock pushed inside her, spreading those thick, wet lips, spearing her on the shaft of my cock.

I leaned to her to kiss her as I began to fuck her. I settled between her legs held wide, resting on the seats to our side. The wet sounds of her pussy sang into the night as my cock pumped its full length in and out of her faster, harder, more insistently. Our tongues danced around the sounds coming from each of us, the sounds of sex, the sounds of lust and passion, grunts to some, music to others.

I came hard deep inside her, pushing myself into her, pushing to deposit the hot spurts of liquid my body had made at her suggestion. She held my body as it stiffened and loosened, alternating between hard and soft. Diane kissed my neck and ear as my senses returned from inside her.

“See what we missed?” she whispered, chuckling.

“Some things take time,” I told her, moving to lick the back of her ear, “And the night has really only just begun.”

Diane wiggled as my cum ran down her ass onto the car seat. “Yes,” she whispered back, “I think we ought to try new things in my backyard pool at home.”

But that is another story entirely.

…The End.

* * * * *

copyright, 1999

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